Meditation from Mississippi

I came a long way for this, stretched flat on the back of this tawdry piece
of asphalt, tucked in the bottom of that tall man’s bag. Oklahoma to Omaha
and then through that wide River of Doubt. We skipped the River of Depression.
Too few stones to hop from one shore to the other.

I might look a little worse for wear, but tell me what woman wouldn’t in all that humid clench of fist? My hat got lost somewhere; the one with the feathers from that obnoxious bird above the store on Lancaster Ave. I liked it though. Carolina used to say it made my face absurd.

I might have lost my lipstick. A woman always needs a little shade of plumeria
when she smiles. I suppose I’ll need to buy something new now that I’m here.
Seattle is a long way from home. All this ocean, all these streets. The air is scented
with salt-crusted shells. At least I still have my pearls.



I used a bunch of return addresses to guide the places and words in this poem. Other than that, it’s been a very long day and my brain feels terribly tired.

This entry was published on February 28, 2012 at 6:18 pm and is filed under February, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “[59]

  1. Thank you for sending your winged words and lipsticked heartbeats to my mailbox. I am tired and sniffling with a head cold, but happy because my Shanna thought of me. Watch your box, too! XO

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